


Thomas Really Really Should Not Drink

by Benaroony



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Liberal use of Italics, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and regrets everything, lil bit of angst, lots of swearing, they all live together, wckd is a research facility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benaroony/pseuds/Benaroony
Summary: Thomas accidentally promises Gally that he'll tell Newt how he feels when Gally owns up to Minho about his own crush. Maybe Thomas should stay the hell away from Newt, their friends, and booze for the rest of his life. And move to a remote island off the coast of Canada to avoid his terrible life choices.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd bc I'm trash and if I'm gonna suffer through this so are you <3\. Also, I haven't written for a while? So sorry in advance I guess.

Thomas sits, inhales the warm, muggy air and stares at the moon when the world tilts violently. Water droplets careen through the air as he flails around in the kiddie pool. Newt is yelling and he can hear Minho giggling. The ground won’t stop tilting. Thomas watches the waves slosh around, hitting the bright plastic edges of the pool and feels his stomach make the same movement. Breathes in. Coughs when all that goes down is water.

Newt is rushing towards him, fast as he can with his limp. Minho watches Thomas flail and laughs harder. “He’s going to drown you bloody moron!” He ignores Newt and calls Gally over instead so they can both watch Thomas fuck about.

He gives up on trying to sit and watches Newt push Minho out of the way. Minho falls over and Thomas snorts, forgetting or a moment that he's in a puddle.  _Oops._ He coughs some more. Newt reaches down to lift him up and he coughs again. Shivers a bit, soaks Newt’s shirt in the process.

Newt is looking at him, checking him over. “Tommy you drunk idiot,” wow his eyes are pretty, “are you trying to die?”

Minho is still giggling. He smiles at Newt, crooked and full of teeth, and nods. Newt rolls his pretty, pretty eyes. Thomas stares. Minho coos at them and Gally makes a gagging noise. Thomas ignores them and stares some more. He feels the world sway again and tries not to puke.

Thomas leans in close, close enough his nose brushes Newt’s cheek. “The ground is spinning” Thomas tries to say, except his tongue gets in the way and he’s pretty sure what comes out sounds like when the garburator in the kitchen malfunctions in the middle of chopping shit up. Newt smiles at him and Thomas feels something he’d rather not dwell on bloom in his chest.

“Don’t worry Tommy,” the pool crackles as Newt pulls him out, “I got you. Hold on tight bud.” Thomas does not listen to Newt. Gally and Minho both laugh this time as Thomas, deadweight in Newt’s arms, flops around like a ragdoll and Newt swears up a storm. Thomas refuses to think about the feeling of Newt’s wiry arms straining against his chest. Absolutely not. Except he does and he wishes that Newt would hold him close and keep everything else away from the two of them.

Newt is a brilliant shade of red and soaking wet when he finally manages to get Thomas half out of the pool, dropping him right where they stand. It’s just enough that he won’t drown when he lies down. Thomas is too preoccupied with this weird feeling to care. It’s totally more than a crush. _You are so gone on him you dumbass_. He swirls his finger through the mud and thinks about Newt. He’s so royally fucked.

It’s been a while since the first time he felt this thing. He’s pretty sure it’s at least a crush, maybe more. Newt is a live wire; sparking, and electrifying, and a little bit dangerous too. Just enough to keep Thomas on his toes and he fucking loves it. Thrives on the way Newt rolls his eyes and scoffs at his antics, lives and breathes for the soft way Newt will look at him sometimes. Moments like those make him think he might just have a chance before reality comes crashing down and he remembers that Newt is his friend; there’s no way in hell he’d be willing to risk what they have. Not even for what could be. Minho gives him shit for it all the time, but the status quo works for him so he’ll stick to it thank you very much. _No, it doesn’t_ , a little voice at the back of his head supplies, but he’s gotten good enough at ignoring it that nothing it says affects him anymore.

All of this rushes through him as he draws aimlessly in the mud, swirls his finger through the smooth ground and watches the little grooves appear.

There’s music playing somewhere, muffled but still audible. It makes him want to dance and bump and grind with a partner until they’re sweaty and spent. Maybe this partner has floppy blonde hair and warm brown eyes that catch every movement he makes, but fuck if he isn’t allowed to dream then what’s the point? These musings are the only time where he gets to appreciate the long lean lines of Newt, he’s going to explore every angle and view. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how his forehead creases when he’s confused, the way he absentmindedly licks his lips sometimes; all of this and more has been replayed over and over in Thomas’ mind. He’s committed every different facial expression to memory. A little bit creepy, but who can blame him, he’s fucking desperate.

There’s a foot in front of his face now. “Thomas, get up you dipshit.” _Ah, Gally_.

He looks all the way up, cranes his neck so much that it cramps and he flops onto his back. “Eloquent as always asshole, but I’m pretty comfy down here.”

He’s really not. The cold water is seeping through his shirt, but for some reason, he can’t admit that to Gally.

All he gets is an eye roll and scoff. Thomas sticks out his tongue. “This is what I get for trying to help your sorry ass,” he can see Gally start to pace, “but instead you want to wallow in the mud. I can almost hear you think about him you know. It’s so obvious Thomas, you need to get a grip and tell him for fuck's sake.”

 _Well then Newt definitely knows and doesn’t care_ _,_ he wants to say. Instead, before he can even think, he tells Gally “I’ll tell Newt how I feel about him when you tell Minho about your feelings.” _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why did I do that?_

Gally doesn’t even hesitate, sticks his hand out to shake. “Deal is on Tom, you’re going to tell Newt one way or another.” His smile makes Thomas regret this idea just a little bit more, he’d forgotten for a moment how evil Gally could be. Shit. He’s so fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends i dont know where im going with this. un-beta'd bc what is proofreading

 

Thomas wakes up in his own bed, hungover as shit with no recollection of how he got there, and immediately regrets spending most of the night in that goddamn kiddie pool. Someone was nice enough to stick him in his own bed and strip him down to his boxers, but he must’ve been too hard to get under the covers because he is lying on top of them and freezing his fucking ass off. As he huddles under the blankets to avoid the light seeping through his curtains, the pieces together what happened after his chat with Gally.

He’s pretty sure he spent a while drawing in the mud and thinking about Newt, before getting up to take a piss. _Teresa and Brenda need to find somewhere else to fuck,_ he’s walked in on them way too many times before. _It doesn’t even make sense, they live in this house too. They even share a fucking room._ He’s pretty sure they get off on it, but honestly, he really doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a point where he thinks he fell asleep for a bit, and then he remembers stumbling up the steps while being mostly supported by someone.

There is a pounding at his door that matches the throbbing headache forming behind his eyes and Gally, the fucker, is yelling at him to “Get the fuck up Thomas, you’ve got work in thirty-five minutes!” Thomas decides he really really hates him today as he stumbles to the door, flipping him off when he passes by to get to the bathroom. He wonders if he looks as shitty as he feels. _Probably, and Janson is totally going to give him so much shit if he’s late on top of hungover._

The warm shower does wonders, and by the time he gets out, he’s feeling a little less like an angry embodiment of death and destruction hell-bent on making Gally suffer for kicking him out of bed. The smell of someone cooking breakfast is enough to draw Thomas down the stairs and into the kitchen, he passes by Brenda who smiles at him so innocently it makes him want to puke. He flips her off too and her laughter chases him down the hall.

By the time he gets to the kitchen, his brain catches up to his feet and he notices he completely bypassed stopping at his room and putting on clothes, so he’s standing in the entrance to the kitchen dripping wet and covered by nothing but a towel. _Fuck it,_ that little voice supplies, _they’ve all seen you in your boxers before._

He regrets that decision not even half a second later when he notices Newt and Minho sitting at the table. Tea, eggs, and toast for Newt and a coffee sitting in front of Minho. Teresa is at the stove, and Thomas figures the risk of bodily harm is not worth the reward of breakfast that he won’t have to make.

He really wishes that Minho was a zombie in the morning because as soon as he starts toward the coffee pot he can feel that he is going to say something that Thomas is not going to like. _Jesus, he just wants coffee why are his housemates dicks?_

He’s gotten to the coffee pot and pulled out a mug before Minho or Teresa say anything, _he might just get away with his towel skirt,_ when he hears “That’s a pretty risky fashion choice for work, isn’t it Thomas?” Minho mimes yanking the towel away and _he is going to shove Minho’s head so far up his ass they will need a fucking shovel to get it out_ if he actually goes through with that.

He finishes filling his mug and gives Minho a wide berth as he’s making his way to the fridge when Teresa finally decides to turn around. _Fuck putting milk in his coffee, he’s getting the hell out of here._ He sees her smile and just starts to try and slip away when she pulls out her phone. _No no no no no time to get out of the kitchen._ He skips away from Minho’s grabby hands as he hears the shutter sound her phone makes when it takes a picture. He knows the assholes timed it so that it happens as he’s passing Newt, who’s staring intently at his breakfast and _wow he’s really red, how cute._ He’s out the door and moving as fast as he physically can without spilling his coffee or dropping his towel before he can get a good look.

 _Crisis averted_ , he thinks just as Gally comes out of his room and snatches the towel from around his waist. His screech is heard around the house, followed by a very hard door slam and some passionate cursing.

By the time he throws on some clothing his heart is no longer racing and he’s got enough time to finish gulping his coffee, grab some food, and get out the door. If he’s a little faster than normal, no one says anything.

Work passes by in a flash; he adds a bit to his thesis, peer reviews Aris’ paper that he’s planning on publishing soon, has a couple of meetings and then it’s already six. As he’s leaving he sees Teresa, she’s in one of the labs where they’re researching something to do with cognitive function during sleep; she’s surrounded by rows of sleeping rats with wires and electrodes everywhere, her fingers fly over her tablet as she observes and records the data that all the screens are spitting at her. He knocks on the glass and waves, points to his watch to remind her to leave on time. She won’t be out for another hour at least, so he hops on the train and heads home.

He’s not the first one home, which is weird because he normally starts the earliest and ends the earliest. He’s still a little jumpy from this morning, so who can blame him if he checks all the darker easy-to-hide-in spots on the way to the kitchen.

Newt looks up from his book as Thomas slips in quietly. He's got this faraway look in his eyes like he's been sucked into the story and is coming back to reality with every noise Thomas makes. He feels bad for interrupting, except now Newt is focused on him and wow that makes him feel weird things. It's moment like these, when he looks at him with so much care and affection, that Thomas forgets for a second they're friends and not something more. _Except Newt thinks you're just a friend so take what he gives you and be satisfied. Don't be a creep._

Newt is still looking at him like that when Thomas flops into the chair across from him and drapes himself over the table. "Why're you home so early?" He plays with the corner of Newt's book and avoids looking at him because he knows he'll space out and end up staring at him creepily.

"Class got canceled - prof was sick today." He looks up at Newt; he's smiling so gently that Thomas' hands freeze.

"Isn't it one of your favorites?" He's still smiling at him as he nods, "What do you guys do in it?"

Newt's eyes roll so hard Thomas is a little worried they're going to fall out of his head. "Tommy, it's called the Art and Discipline of Writing. What do you think we do?" He laughs a bit, seeing right through Thomas' attempt at keeping the conversation going before closing his book and launching into a detailed description of the project they're working on right now. The way Newt lights up as he talks is like kryptonite to Thomas, and even if Newt were chatting about the most boring thing he'd be rapt. He's so far gone it almost physically hurts him, so he shoves it down and gives Newt all of his attention while he still wants it.

Teresa finds them like that later when she gets home. Thomas has melted across the table, completely asleep as Newt reads his book and absentmindedly runs his hand through Thomas' hair. she slowly and quietly backs out of the kitchen, but not before slipping her phone out and snapping a quick photo of the two.


End file.
